I stared at the pavement as we walked toward the entrance. We walked through the sliding glass doors and I was blinded by a sterile white. Every surface; the floors, the walls the furniture; was white. My nostrils burned with the smell of bleach.

"Mr. Way I'm Alana we spoke on the phone." A nurse said to my brother in a hushed tone. I was afraid to speak loudly too. Almost as if something would break if you made too much noise, or moved too quickly. Even the ring of the phone was set to a very low volume.

I stood in the middle of the entrance, slowly taking in my surroundings. Suddenly I heard screaming down the hallway, followed by a man with a beard and a shaved head whizzing past us and out the front door. Three male orderlies dressed in all white aside from one who was spattered with blood, ran after the man.

My eyes widened as I looked to Gerard, pleading to him. He walked toward me and smiled. "You'll fit in so well here."

"Fuck you," I muttered.

"Michael?" An unfamiliar female voice called. I turned around and was face to face with a very blonde nurse wearing pink scrubs. I still had the concerned look on my face, and she giggled. "Don't worry, that's just George. He's not in your ward."

I breathed a long sigh of relief. The orderlies, two now having blood on them, carried George in. He gave me a toothless smile on his way by.

I turned back to the pretty nurse. "So, we have lots to do today. Are you ready to say goodbyes and get settled in?"

No. "Sure," I replied. How can one be ready for forced enrollment in rehab, exactly? Everyone hugged me. I silently waved, having absolutely nothing to say to them. I was furious with all of them.

"So, Michael," she lead me down a hallway in the opposite direction of George. "Are you nervous?"

What a stupid fucking question. No, I'm not nervous about living in a locked capacity with a bunch of nut jobs. I'm not at all nervous that I have to go at least a month sober. Not me. "Not really," I replied.

"Well that's great news." she said, looking at me and smiling, revealing perfect teeth. I ran my tongue over my own teeth, realizing they hadn't been brushed in a while.

We stopped in front of a set of double doors. She pulled keys out of her pocket and waved a small gray piece of plastic in front of a black box on the wall. The doors opened. Before walking inside I read the sign above the doors. Pendeo Wing, it read.

The people of Pendeo wing looked fairly normal. Aside from one girl who really stood out. A curly mess of hair sat atop her head, and large dark circles surrounded her eyes. About eight months of pregnancy protruded from her small frame, and she was staring out the window holding a copy of the new testament above her head. The nurse caught me staring at her and she giggled again. "That's Sheila, recovering herion addict," she explained. "But you'll learn all about her in group."

I followed her to my room. A six by six cell. With nothing but a dresser, a bed, and one of those mirrors, that always give a distorted reflection, because its not made of glass. I heaved my suitcases onto the bed. "Hey, I never caught your name," I said.

She smiled again, "Spencer," she said. I liked it. It suited her. "Now, lets get your stuff unpacked." She reached for the zipper of my bag.

"Uh, I can do that," I stuttered.

She laughed, "I have to do it,"

I sighed, "Okay, but just so you know, I was dragged here against my will. And I didn't get a chance to go through my stuff. I don't know if my friends did."

"Okay, I'm sure there's nothing I haven't seen before." she smirked. I grabbed the other bag and started to go through it. She stopped me. "Michael, why don't you go walk around, get to know the place,"

I bit my lip. "I'm okay."

"Alright, well if you're planning on staying, let me give you a run down of the rules here," Oh, shit, I always sucked at rules. "First, throwing fits will land you in the rubber room,"

My eyes widened and my mouth fell open. "You mean that isn't just in the movies?"

She shook her head. "It's a room, with padded walls, and a drain in the floor. That's. It. So don't throw fits,"

Done.

"Second," she said, finding a Mickey and setting it aside. "Being good earns you privileges, such as day passes, and being exempt from chores."

Chores? You've got to be fucking kidding me.

"Which brings me to three. Everyone has chores. You'll be notified as to what they are at the beginning of each day. Most of them have to do with meals,"

I was not going to do well here.

"And four, if you are caught with anything you know you're not supposed to have, you're never going to get out. So I suggest not even trying."

I nodded, signaling that I understood. But definitely not that I agreed.

She finished going through all my things. Things in the pile included, a mickey of vodka, mouthwash, nail clippers, and belt. "The belt, really?" I asked, "I need it to hold up my pants."

"Judging by all the pants that I went through, they should have no trouble staying up," she said, referring to the fact that most of my pants, were made for girls.

I smiled, I was going to like her.

________________________________________________________A/N Okay, your reviews were heartwarming. Warm my heart again :) Oh, and just a little factoid. The way that the rehab is described is real. My mother attended one. The first time I went to visit her, I stepped in a puddle of blood, and I met Sheila. :) Enjoy.